


Down the Rabbit Hole

by 4Kennedy



Category: Glee
Genre: Community: femslash100100, Costumes, Denial of Feelings, F/F, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 15:13:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2352914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4Kennedy/pseuds/4Kennedy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Disney week at Glee Club.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down the Rabbit Hole

**Author's Note:**

> Table/Prompt: Around the clock / 17:00 ~ finite

Sometimes Quinn wished she had a remote control, so it would be up to her how fast or slow a scene of her life played. She could even skip a chapter or delete a recording from the hard drive that was her brain. 

Today was one of the days where this wish was very present. Quinn was sitting in the front row in Glee club, watching the performances of her friends. It was Disney week and looking around her, she felt like she was at a children’s birthday party. They were all wearing costumes and she was no exception. It was as embarrassing as it was fun. 

Rachel and Finn had just finished their performance as Jasmine and Aladdin, singing of course “A Whole New World.” It had been disgustingly sweet and Quinn felt somewhat nauseous. How much she had wanted to press the fast forward button. 

Mr. Schuester cheeringly clapped his hands together. “All right, Santana, it’s your turn,” he announced, smiling encouragingly.

Santana walked up in front of the group and positioned herself beside the piano, chin raised in confidence. When she signaled Brad with a nod to start playing and the first soft tunes of “Colors of the Wind” sounded, Quinn felt the rest of the choir room fall away. Santana was simply gorgeous. She was a natural beauty – well, apart from her man-made breasts – and she wore that damn sexy Pocahontas outfit like an Indian goddess. 

Quinn’s breath caught at the sight and she felt her cheeks flush. She couldn’t remember if the dress was supposed to be that short, but how could she complain when it provided the opportunity to appreciate Santana’s long, perfect legs? If someone had the power to turn a harmless Disney costume into an alluring Playboy-like outfit without looking ridiculous in it, it would be Santana. She could sell anything.

But it wasn’t only Santana’s outfit that captivated Quinn. It was also her singing. Santana sang her heart out; there was so much emotion in that husky and sultry voice, it sent goose bumps up and down Quinn’s arms. Her heart was thumping hard against her chest when her imagination started to run wild. Dangerous images floated through Quinn’s mind; they tingled in her stomach and settled down somewhat lower as a burning need. Santana was a temptress and she had Quinn wrapped around her fingers.

It was almost at the end of the song that Santana sat down on the bar stool, which was positioned by the piano. The hem of her short dress rode up, revealing even more of her silky, tanned legs. Quinn unconsciously licked her lips. Her fingers twitched and turned into fists, crunching the white apron of her Alice costume as her eyes raked over Santana’s body. If she could press pause on her remote control right now, Quinn would walk over to Santana to find out if the inside of her thighs felt as soft as they looked.

The song ended and applause resounded. Quinn wished she could rewind to the start of Santana’s performance so that she could relive and enjoy it again. But unfortunately - like all good things - the song was finite. Quinn had to come back to the real world. There was liquid heat between her legs and she shifted uncomfortably on her chair.

Santana smiled blindingly, but Quinn knew it wasn’t meant for her, even though it felt like it for an illusionary second. It was for Brittany, who was seated directly behind her. And that was okay. After all Quinn wasn’t gay. She was simply admiring the art of beauty, wasn’t she? 

The End.


End file.
